


I Love You With Every Cell in My Body

by SterekvsSteter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, College, Comeplay, Death, Dirty Talk, Evil Kate Argent, F/M, High School, Kidnapping, Letters, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic, Marking, Murder, Murderer Peter, On the Run, Oral Sex, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Pen Pals, Post Hale Fire, Praise Kink, Prisoner Peter, References to Drugs, Riding, Rimming, Scott Gets Bitten, Slow Build, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sterek if you squint, Steter - Freeform, The Alpha Pack, Werewolves, idk what else, prison break - Freeform, prison pen pals, really really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterekvsSteter/pseuds/SterekvsSteter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Peter become pen pals.<br/>Peter is in prison.<br/>They fall in love.<br/>Peter breaks out.<br/>Hell ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Just Haven't- Met You Yet

It could be said that it was all his dad's fault, since he was the one who told him to do the frickin thing in the first place.

He was sixteen, bored, and kinda lonely, since not many people had a taste for his brand of sarcasm and Scott had gone to see his dad for the summer. The Sheriff, just wishing Stiles would leave his room for longer than it took to reheat pizza (because cold pizza? ew.) showed him a flyer that had been hanging up at the station recently. The paper proclaimed that _you too_ could become friends with a psycho! Okay, maybe it didn't say that, but it was all between the lines.

What it actually said was that the prison was starting a pen pal program for ages 13+. Wow, great idea, let's connect a bunch of serial killers and pedophiles with some underage kids, Stiles thought. Although thinking that it was a stupid idea, he couldn't deny that he was somewhat intrigued. He spend that night looking up more details about the program. Luckily, the inmate had to have been on their best behavior for over a year, no fights, no disobedience, nada, and all the letters were read by officials before being sent out.

He decided to sign up, he was curious, kill him.

***

Not literally, hopefully...

***

_Dear Inmate,_

_I don't really know what to call you. The only information I got was that you're 'Prisoner 161', and for some reason I think that's kind of insulting to call someone. Unless you want to be called that. That's fine, like if you think it makes you sound tough or something. Which I'm sure you are! Like, super tough, and could probably break my neck or other parts of my body. Anyway. My name is Stiles. Well, not actually, but my actual name is horrendous and will never be used, ever._

_The site said that I should describe myself? Like my favorite color and stuff like that. That was literally a suggestion by the way. They honestly said that I should talk about my favorite color. Why would you care? Does the fact that this weird sixteen year old kid's favorite color is red, really change your life at all? I don't know, maybe it does. Maybe you have a fascination with favorite colors. What's your favorite color? Do you see a lot of colors anymore? With you being in prison and all. Okay, sorry, that was kind of insensitive. But I mean, if you're in prison then you probably did something pretty bad and you obviously didn't care that you were going to prison for it._

_I'm actually dying to know why you're in there. I know it's 'bad etiquette' or whatever to ask, and you will get stabbed or something for it, but I really want to know. Feel free to completely ignore me though. Or lie. You could always say that you're in there because you robbed a bank so that some old lady could pay her mortgage and there was collateral damage you got blamed for. Not that I condone robbing banks for any reason, but if there was a good one, it would probably be to help an old lady._

_Okay, I'm going to stop before I continue saying stupid things. I hope you get this in tact. The site also says that they censor things, which I kinda get, but I don't think I've said anything worth censoring. Anyway, hope to hear your reply._

_From,_

_Stiles S._

***

He sent it. After, of course, re-reading it a million times and almost scraping it a million more. He was going to edit and rewrite it, but decided that he was done stressing about it and if this person (prisoner!) thought he was a spaz, well, they wouldn't be wrong. It showed his personality or whatever. He hoped that they would send back a letter, even if it's just to tell him to never try to contact them ever again. Maybe they'll find him weirdly charming.

Okay, if he's worried about what a person in prison thinks of him, then he needs to get some sleep.

***

Bored. So very, very bored. Stiles pretty much read every article on wikipedia there was. He knew more about the mating of flatworms than he ever needed to. He attempted to play Call of Duty, but if felt wrong without Scott there to weigh him down like usual. The arcade got boring really quick once you ran out of coins (and gas money). Sleeping only lasted so long before you feel like you want to rip your hair out. He even tried to tag along with his dad to the station.

Which pretty much ended up with him sorting paperwork after he 'bothered' too many deputies trying to work. Which was ridiculous because it wasn't like anything happened in Beacon Hills anyway. Well, nothing but Mrs.  Tedeschi attempting to steal money out of unlocked cars. She was just a crazy old lady, and most people took pity on her since three of her past husbands had died. Maybe an occasional drunk was put in the tank, but really, Beacon Hills was just boring in general.

The most interesting thing to happen in the last twenty years is when he Hale house burnt down. Stiles was only a kid then, so he didn't remember it well. It killed like, fifteen people though. Luckily, three of the Hale kids weren't home at the time, and one person escaped. The only reason he remembered it at all was because it was so out of place.

The Hale house was more of a mansion, really. Big and new, everything inside expensive but homey. The house wasn't thirty years old before it burnt down. The wiring shouldn't have been faulty, like the reports said. Stiles read the report a few years back, and it grated on him for awhile. Something was up, and he knew it. But nobody wanted to listen to a fourteen-year-old spouting conspiracies. It didn't matter that there was never any photographic proof of the cause of the fire. Or that it just happened to start when the most amount of Hales were home. Or even that they were the most influential family in the area. No one wanted to dig up old skeletons.

And so, two years later, Stiles sat at Parrish's desk, feet propped up, paper and pen in hand, marking the Hale Fire case file. He looked down at the file cabinets, trying to choose to put it under 'H' for 'Hale' or 'F' for 'Fire'. Maybe 'I' for 'If I have to organize one more paper, I'm going to blow my brains out'. He sighed, dropping his feet and throwing the paper back on the pile of yet-to-be-placed cases. Who even used paper anymore? Everything would be a lot easier for everyone if it was all on database. He rubbed the space between his eyes tiredly.

Looking up, he found Parrish staring back at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Working hard or hardly working?" He asked jokingly. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I came here to escape boredom, not drown in it. Where are the bad guys, the murders? Car chases with suspenseful music?" Stiles complained. Parrish laughed, eyes crinkling adorably.

"Here, I've got a case for you." He said, leaning in close as if talking about an important secret, Stiles leaned in with him, intrigued, "Mr. Derril stole a fedora from Wallie's, maybe it's the mob, or maybe just a bad fashion choice." Stiles glared before flicking him on the nose and leaning back in his chair. Parrish laughed again.

"Way to be a dick, dude." He huffed, crossing his arms putently.

"Sorry to disappoint, but the only half-interesting thing that's come up is some gruesome animal deaths in the preserve. Probably a coyote or something. There's a warning out to avoid the woods at all costs; We don't need some poor hiker to lose a limb." Parrish said, before turning back to his paperwork, oblivious of the wheels in Stiles' head turning. He stood up abruptly (and clumsily).

"I have somewhere to be." And rushed off.

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: READ THE TAGS! I will continue adding more as I go along. If you want something tagged please don't be afraid of telling me. Okay.  
> Don't expect this fic to have a ending! I am known for not finishing fics. I might get bored of it, I might just have severe writer's block, or I might just not have time. But of course, comments, kudos, etc. always encourage me to continue :)  
> If you would like to beta this work, please let me know.  
> Updates at least once a week (I hope!)


	2. You Know, That I'm No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does stupid, reckless things...but Peter finally replies.

As he approached the entrance to the closest trail to the preserve, he felt equal parts excited and nervous. He just wanted something interesting to finally happen in Beacon Hills. Even sitting on the bench in lacrosse was more interesting than the summer had been so far; at least on the bench he could watch Greenburg get screamed at by Finstock, which was always entertaining.

Someone might say that his boredom was because he was too co-dependant on Scott.

What? Crazy talk.

He didn't need Scott; he was Batman. He wasn't Robin to anyone, and he could last a couple months without his best friend by his side. He was entertaining himself just fine, thanks. Okay, it didn't even sound convincing to himself. He sighed before parking his jeep as far in the woods as he could so that it couldn't be spotted from the road. The last thing he needed was someone telling his dad that he was sneaking around in a place specifically off-limits to the public. But when had Stiles ever counted as the public?

He got out, breathing in deeply at the scent of pine that surrounded him. It was nice, the silence. People thought that since Stiles had ADHD and couldn't stop talking (which wasn't true by the way, he just got caught up in asking questions, unless he forgot his meds, which he did that morning--shit!) that he couldn't appreciate silence, but he did. It was actually relaxing, and it eased some of his initial nerves. He fidgeted a bit, checking his phone, making sure he had his keys, etc. before entering.

The trail was closed off and had a large red sign that proclaimed: 'Keep Out- Dangerous animals sighted. Closed off until further notice from the County Sheriff's Police Office'. Stiles chuckled to himself. Yep, okay, he'll be sure to do that.

He climbed over the metal gate easily and started down the dirt path. He didn't really know what he was looking for. Maybe some dead animal carcass? Ew, no, nevermind. Maybe he'll see the coyote and kill it bare-handed and save the lives of hundreds. Or the few lives of cute forest animals. Either way: hero. Only he's pretty sure he'd piss himself if he saw an actual coyote, so that's probably out. Oh! Maybe he'll-

Wait, what was that?

Stiles spotted the bright yellow object to his right. He contemplated staying on the path, but what fun was that? He carefully (read: flailingly) made his way down the steep hill, holding onto exposed roots to stay steady. As he moved closer he saw that the neon yellow object was actually a band. Like the top folded part of exercise pants. As he got to flat ground he saw the rest of the fabric. Yup, definitely women's spandex capris. They were covered in dirt and something else. He couldn't see very well until he got even closer.

It wasn't until he got right up next to it that he saw the blood.

***

"Explain it again to me, son?" the Sheriff asked again, hand on Stiles' shoulder as police and emergency vehicles searched around the area.

"I went into the woods-"

"The woods that were off limits to the public." Stiles paused.

"It really depends on how you define 'public'."

"I define it as everyone in this town, including you. How do you define it?"

"Everyone in this town, except for me?" Stiles smiled unconvincingly. The Sheriff sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes.

"Continue the story, kid."

"Okay, well, I went into the woods, which, yeah, had a sign that technically told me not to, but! It wasn't very specific and really, if you wanted people to stay out, you should really invest in better security measures. I mean, this gate is two feet tall at most, and it covers ten feet of space. The woods stretch out for miles! Really, anyone could come in here at any time they wanted and they might not ever see the sign. Maybe we could put a giant electrical fence around the entire forest, like the Mexican border. We could even have guards-"

"Stiles."

"Oh, right, sorry. Where was I? Oh right, so I went into the woods for an afternoon stroll-"

"It's nine o'clock."

"An afternoon stroll." Stiles replied pointedly, ignoring his father's injections, "and I was just minding my own business when I saw this thing out of the corner of my eye, and I was curious, ya know? I took my adderall late last night and I'm pretty sure it's wearing off so you can't really blame me for being curious. Well, I guess you could, but it wouldn't really be fair to me if-"

"Son." The Sheriff sighed.

"And so I went over to see what it was and it when I got close I realized that it was pants attached to a body and I was going to do something but then I realized that it was only the bottom half and I kinda freaked out and then I ran back up the hill and called you and then you showed up and asked me what happened and I said-"

"Okay, Stiles, I got it." He said, tired out. Stiles stayed quiet for a couple minutes, waiting for his dad's reaction. "I'm glad you called me first and didn't try to deal with it on your own." He started.

"What was I going to do, go looking for the potential murderer in the deep woods with no cell reception or any clue that I was in the woods at all?" Stiles asked sarcastically. The Sheriff raised an eyebrow like 'yeah, that's exactly what I was expecting you to do' and Stiles took a second to be offended before agreeing. "Yeah, okay, that's totally something I would do."

"I know, and even though you did call me, you still went into the woods by yourself. The banned woods, I might add."

"Only to the public." Stiles reminded him.

"Either way, you're grounded. Possibly forever, or at least until school starts."

"But Dad!" Stiles proclaimed, eyes wide, hands flailing. The Sheriff held up a hand.

"No buts, you could've been killed, Stiles." Stiles huffed.

"But I wasn't!"

"It doesn't matter. You're going to go home, take your adderall and sleep it off. I don't want you leaving the house for any reason until I get home. And then only with my explicit permission."

"What's your definition of 'explicit'?"

"I want it in my own writing and signed with blood, do you understand?" He said sternly. Stiles attempted to look affronted, but finally agreed.

"Fine." He sighed and started to make his way to his jeep.

"And don't stop anywhere on your way home, Stiles!" He yelled out as Stiles walked away. Stiles swore under his breath.

***

Stiles did go straight home, pulling into the driveway and hopping out quickly. He still felt shaky from his earlier discovery and also a bit nauseous. He had the urge to call Scott just as he walked inside, but completely forgot about him as he noticed the letter that the mailman had slipped to the mail slot sometime that afternoon. In neat, loopy writing was his name, or part of it. As he picked it up he noticed it was addressed to 'Stiles S.' which immediately had his brain whirring. There was only one person that would call him that and he didn't know whether to be excited or scared. He decided that it didn't matter and ran up the stairs to his bedroom.

Falling onto his bed, he easily ripped open the letter and started reading.

***

_Dear Stiles,_

_You can call me Peter, although I didn't realize that I was the 161st inmate. I wonder if that means that there are 161 prisoners before me or if it means that I'm in cell number 161. Perhaps both. I have a feeling that this information will help me sometime in the future, so thank you. And as for my ability to break your neck, or any part of your body for that matter, it can only be determined by attempting it, since I have never tried to break any part of a person before, but I'll try it out and get back to you._

_Stiles seems like an interesting name, but now you've gotten me wondering about your actual name, the one that you quoted as being 'horrendous'. To answer your questions, I cannot say that the fact that your favorite color is red has changed my life at all. I have a preference for plum myself. Most of the colors in here are greys, and the jumpsuits that are a hideous orange. We obviously see red quite often, since us prisoners enjoy breaking necks so much._

_I cannot say that I've cared all that much for prison etiquette myself, so I am willing to indulge you. Truthfully, I have killed people. Multiple people, matter of fact. I believe that they labeled me a serial killer in the papers before. Although cliche, I also must say that every person deserved what I did to them wholeheartedly, ten times over. It was never my plan at all to kill them, but no one was going to believe a man covered in blood when he called self-defense. Now, I am not trying to make you take my side, I'm just telling the truth. And no, the murders did not benefit any elderly women, my apologies._

_I do hope to hear from you soon, Stiles._

_Sincerely,_

_Peter H._

***

  
Stiles didn’t know whether to laugh or be creeped out. He shoved it to the back of his mind and pulled out another sheet of paper and started writing. It was too late, now he was curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are mentions of a dead body here but nothing explicit so I didn't feel the need to give a big warning. If you feel like I should put it somewhere, then please let me know :) I also don't think I wrote Peter good here? I'm working on it I promise. I actually changed the letter a bit and cut down on the sarcasm. There was actually a line that said 'I don't have much experience with breaking things, except for dreams, of course.' but I didn't think that was very Peter-y? any advice or feedback is welcome as always!!  
> I am actually planning on finishing this at some point, but I'm just putting up chapters as I write them, really, so no promises. And I don't know if you've noticed (im sure you have) but I don't have a beta! If you're interested, please let me know!  
> Thank you again for all the amazing comments, kudos, etc. They continue to push me forward!


	3. I Can Fuck You Betta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sees a Hale, and damn, he's hot.

_Dear Peter,_

_I don't know how I feel about helping out a murderer, how are you using this information? I should probably let you know that my dad is the Sheriff. And don't worry man, I don't need to know if you can break someone's neck that bad. Really, don't. I can't tell if you're joking and it kinda freaks me out. I guess you're already in prison so breaking someone's neck isn't going to do much anyway. That doesn't mean you should though! I am not condoning neck breaking!_

_Anyway, you will never find out my real name. Never ever. Not even my best friend knows it and we've known each other since second grade. It's polish and nearly impossible to pronounce. And plum? Really? It's purple. Plum sounds ridiculously pretentious. Oh, and, Ha. Ha. Ha. Not funny dude, at least I can tell you're joking this time... right? About the breaking necks thing?_

_Okay, that's terrifying. Whether it was self defense or not, you basically just admitted to killing a bunch of people. I don't know what I expected, maybe a bank robber? Not a serial killer, at least. I guess it's good to know though. I actually can't lie, I'm dying to know the whole story. You can always ignore me and just talk about something else, like your family or something. Anyway, I'm glad you wrote back, and I really want to hear what it's like in prison. Okay, that sounded kind of weird. Sorry._

_Sincerely_ _,_

_Stiles S._

  
***

Two great things happened after he found the body: Scott came back home and decided that he never wanted to see his dad ever again, and the Sheriff had a suspect for the dead body. At least, that's what Stiles assumed since he saw a guy, talk, dark, and broody, in the interrogation room with his dad. Which means that he thinks it was a murder. A murder! In Beacon Hills! God this summer got way more exciting.

Stiles heard from some old ladies at the market that a Hale had come back to discuss the body in the woods with the police. Stiles was curious, can you blame him?So he drove to Betsy's Diner and got his dad lunch, something with fat to butter him up, and drove to the station.

Thankfully, Parrish was the deputy that greeted him at the front desk. He was the probably the only person who wouldn't be suspicious of his intentions. Or he would be the most suspicious, he guessed he would find out. He walked up to the desk with a big (not suspicious at all, nope) smile and slapped his hand down on the top. Parrish looked up from the computer with an eyebrow raised.

"Hey Parrish. Just bringing dad some lunch, got to keep his heart healthy, you know how it is." He said, totally not weird. Not at all. Completely smooth. Parrish stared at him for a few seconds before sighing.

"He's in interrogation room three, but I wasn't the one to tell you." Parrish replied before looking back down at his computer. Stiles was about to go off on some rant about how he could've been there to bring his dad food, he had the bag and everything! Stiles isn't always up to something. He can be nice! Then he realized that, yeah, he was definitely up to something and it wasn't worth fighting about since he knew that Parrish would ultimately win.

He shut his mouth with a click and nodded.

"Thanks man." Parrish just waved him off.

He made his way through the station, stopping to drop off the bag of food at his father's desk since he spent money on that, thank you. Parrish just had to go and ruin his master plan. Jerk.

He sneakily (at least in his mind) went toward the interrogation rooms. He hoped that Deputy Wilkens was giving him a strange look because he had something onhis face and not because he was being obvious. He could be sneaky, he was the Sheriff's son, after all.

He walked past rooms one and two and paused at the third. He wasn't sure what his plan was. He just wanted to know what his dad thought about the whole 'dead body' thing. Did he think it was a murder? Did he think that the mysterious Hale did it? But then why? How were they tied into all this when all the Hales had been either dead or missing since the fire? Scott said he wasn't interested, but whatever. He could do this by himself.

He pressed his ear against the door and waited, listening to see if anyone was observing. He couldn't hear much of anything so he carefully began to turn the knob. It squealed and Stiles winced, looking around to see if anyone was about to come running. After a few moments of a whole lot of nothing, he began to open it. He peeked through the crack and saw that no one was observing the interrogation from the outside, which means they didn't think that Hale was a threat. So maybe not a murder? He opened it a bit more and checked behind him one more time before slipping in and shutting the door behind him.

Walking over to the one-way glass, he couldn't help but notice the, frankly gorgeous, guy. Like, seriously, what the hell. You only saw people like that in movies and porn. Stubbled jaw, artfully disheveled hair, and broody demeanor were all tied together with a black leather jacket, because apparently, he decided to become the definition of a bad boy stereotype. But man, it worked. Like, really well. Fuck. He actually seemed kind of familiar. He was definitely a bit older than Stiles himself, but not by a lot. He racked his brain for a few minutes, staring at the stranger. His name started with a 'D'. Demetrious? Damien? Darrel? Derek? Yeah! Derek Hale, that sounded right. Stiles vaguely remembered a Derek Hale as one of the only survivors of the fire. Woah man, that sucks.

Stiles did a little victory dance in spite of himself for figuring it out and actually started listening. His father was sitting on the opposite side of the metal table, looking...was that pity? So not the murderer then. Oh crap, maybe the person was related to Derek? They did look kind of similar, dark hair, strong jaw, etc. Wow, that really sucks. His entire family is dead, and the one who wasn't dies from an animal attack. Talk about bad luck. He took a second to feel bad for the guy.

"Who found her?" Derek said, cutting into Stiles' thoughts. His voice wasn't what he expected, higher he guessed. He panicked for a moment, thinking that if Derek knew who found the body, he'd be pissed at them. He seemed like one of those people who went all 'hulk smash' when they were mad. The Sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Well, actually, my son came acrossed her when he was...exploring." His dad explained. 'Exploring'? He went for a stroll. A STROLL! Jeez, get it right dad. Derek looked confused for a second.

"Does your son usually come across dead bodies when he...'explores'?" He asked. The Sheriff looked tired while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"God, I hope not." He said, almost sounding serious. "But we just need your statement for why your sister was in town so we can write up the report. I'm sure the insurance company will want to talk to you too." Stiles fist pumped, damn he was good. Sister? He thought about the Hales he remembered. Talia was the mother, she had a younger brother too- something with a 'P' maybe? Derek was her son, and she had two girls. Cora was in his class, but there was another. He couldn't remember her name, and the body didn't look like how he remembered Cora, she would've been much younger anyway.

He stayed for a couple more minutes, but he decided that he got all the information he was going to for the time being and left. He was already thinking about what he was going to look up to find the Hale's names. It wasn't going to be easy since they were all minors at the time. He probably used up his luck when it came to snooping into police business for the day, he reasoned. Waving good bye to Parrish distractedly, he walked out and drove home.  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I love all the great feedback I've been getting btw! Thank you guys so much! I promise that it's still Steter end-game, even though Derek is very attractive... anyways, keep pushing me guys because it's working!


	4. You Better Shape Up ('Cause I Need a Man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott makes an appearance, Stiles and Peter slowly start to get to know each other, and these characters are just starting to 'shape up'

Derek Hale was a douche, who would've thought. Apparently having your entire family burn to death in a fire made you a dick. Not that he knew Derek very personally, just that he randomly showed up in the woods and interrogated Stiles.

Okay, maybe Stiles was snooping around the Hale house and ran into Derek.

And he might of also been the one interrogating.

Details.

Derek was still a dick though. He just wanted some answers, like his dead sister's name. Is that really too much to ask? When he got home, after the Hale literally growled at him to get off his property, he started to feel like the dick. He couldn't imagine what it would've been like if someone had come around asking questions about his mom right after her death. He was just so bored, and Scott was still angsting over his dad. At least both his parents were alive. His dad was still at the station so he would have to wait if he wanted to coerce information out of him.

He spun idly around in his chair and sighed, that's when he noticed a letter poking out from under some other papers that had been strewn haphazardly on his desk. He jolted up, making the chair wobble threateningly under him, and grabbed the letter. His first name and initial were written in the familiar loopy lettering. He wasted no time in ripping it open and pulling out the letter.

***

_Dear Stiles,_

_I feel as if people believe prison to be much more exciting than it is in actuality. As long as you don't stick your nose into other people's business, then you're safe from all this nonsense about murders and rapes in the night. The outside is much scarier, I assure you. Of course, that means that it gets much more boring here. Sometimes I think about starting fights just for something to do, as it can be a very good source of entertainment, but it's not worth the effort. Neither is breaking necks, if you were still worried. I got my television privileges taken away the other day for talking back to a guard, which was frankly ridiculous. I really do hate being here._

_I promise that the information you have provided me, admittedly on accident, will not be directly used in any kind of 'illegal' actions of mine. Not that I can make that promise for any other information you give me, accidental or not. I think it's only fair that I answer you honestly if you ask, though, unless you wish otherwise so you sleep better at night. I wouldn't blame you._

_Until I have completed my 'evil doings' or what have you, I am stuck in prison for however long a lifetime is. Please feel free to talk about your life, apparently that is what this program is about anyway, connecting the lonely. I hear death really brings people together._

_Sincerely,_

_Peter H._

***

"You're still talking to that serial killer?" Scott asked with his concerned puppy face on. Stiles rolled his eyes at his best friend, not stopping to look up from his computer screen where he was killing zombies loudly.

"Maybe, why does it matter?" He answered, trying to prevent a lecture, not that Scott's heart wasn't in the right place, but his dad was the freaking Sheriff, he was as safe as someone could probably be, outside of being the president.

"Because he's creepy, Stiles! 'I hear death really brings people together', like what is that supposed to mean?" Scott pushed, Stiles flicked his eyes over and saw that Scott held the latest note in his hand. He jumped up and snatched it away from Scott's evil eyes.

"Man, what are you doing? That's private! If you think it's creepy then you don't have to hear about it." He said, tucking the letter back into the envelope and placing back under a pile of books where the other letters lay.

"Since when have we started doing 'private'? I thought we were best friends, dude." Scott said, sounding dejected and kind of pissed. Stiles paused the game and sighed, running his hand over his shaved head and spun the chair so he was facing Scott sitting on his bed.

"We are Scotty, of course we are, but obviously this makes you uncomfortable so maybe it's better if we just don't talk about it." Stiles reasoned. Scott let out a large breath of air and shook his head.

"No, sorry, you're right. We should talk about it, I want to know what's happening in your life. We haven't talked for months, man, I just want to make sure you know what you're doing. He's a serial killer, Stiles. Just-" Scott squinted at the wall like he was thinking, "be careful. I read somewhere that psychopaths can be like, really charming and manipulative."

"You read somewhere? What, are you subscribed to 'Mental Disorders Weekly'?" Stiles teased, "'How to Spot a Psychopath in 10 Easy Steps!'" Scott laughed and shook his head fondly.

"What do you think is going to happen, Scott, I'm just gonna be charmed away by a murder? 'Oh please, Peter! Take me! Let's go on a crazy killing spree together and get married in prison!'" He mimicked in a high pitched voice and a hand to the forehead as if he were swooning. Suddenly, he had a face full of pillow.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Scott said with a smile. Stiles turned back to the computer and unpaused his game.

"Yeah, I know, thanks dude for the concern, but I'll be alright. I'm not gonna fall for a serial killer anytime soon, don't you worry."

***

School started again in, what seemed like, no time at all.

Stiles and Peter had continued writing letters to one another, talking vaguely about their lives, still attempting to feel each other out. Stiles spoke about Scott and his dad. He made sure not to talk about anything that could make them identifiable if Peter felt so inclined to search for him and (possibly) kill him. Peter let him know that he had no intention of killing anyone or searching for Stiles, but Stiles was still wary.

Peter spoke about what was happening in the prison. Apparently there was more drama than you would expect out of grown men who committed serious crimes, but he should've probably been less surprised, he had been to high school before. He also talked about his past, not much but Stiles had been able to pull some information out of him a little at a time.

Peter had been the younger child of two, his sister always being the favorite and the most outgoing. He, on the other hand, felt better more in the background, observing rather than experiencing. Stiles found that to be slightly unsettling, to say the least, but what do you expect from a killer? He also had a big family, although never having kids of his own. They all apparently lived together in a large house, which seemed odd, but Peter had said that family had been very important to everyone. 'Had been' sticking out like a sore thumb.

Peter never talked about it, but Stiles knew that something must of happened to his family. He also never spoke about anyone visiting him and it actually made Stiles feel a bit of sympathy. It always sucked to be without your family.

He wasn't going to lie, he totally looked up Peter in the station's database using all the information he had accumulated. Sure, it was sort of hypocritical, but sue him. He hadn't gotten anything, anyways. Whoever Peter H. was, he didn't commit his crimes in Beacon Hills, which really should've made him feel better.  
It didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos or comments, it means a lot! I was actually wondering what you guys were interested in for the ending, since it's not set in stone currently. I'm debating between a sad ending kind of dark!fic with MCD, or a nice happy ending that is about 200% less fucked up. Idk, let me know what you guys think. Also, sorry for the ridiculous wait, I don't know if it was so much as writer's block, more like nerves because I don't know if I can give this story/plot the justice it deserves. Oh well, can't hurt to try. I'll try for longer chapters in the future.  
> I have created a sterek/steter blog on tumblr, you can come talk to me now!  
> http://sterekvssteter.tumblr.com/


	5. Two Can Keep a Secret (if one of them is dead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Lydia begin their epic broship, Derek Hale is still as mysterious and aloof as ever, and Stiles learns who Peter H. is

He got Harris and Finstock again his senior year, because his life was destined to be a 90’s PG-13 movie. Fortunately he did have two open blocks which he somehow convinced the school to let him put before and after his lunch block, so he had about 3 hours of free time every day. He also took an optional Law course, which would look good on his application if he decided to go into law enforcement like his dad. Not that he actually knew what he was going to do with his life after high school, but it’s better if he just doesn’t think about it.

The class started out slow, but after they finished the basics (what high school student didn’t know the difference between state and federal laws?) it was actually pretty interesting. They started talking about some of the biggest cases ever solved in America, and some that still hadn’t been. Stiles had heard about some of them, but he honestly hadn’t been very interested in any case that hadn’t had some kind of mystery or murder in it. Blah blah-drugs-blah blah-mafia- whatever. But some psycho killer? Awesome.

So although school was going well, Harris was literally a thorn in his ass. It was a testament to his maturity that he didn’t make a joke about it. Also because it was Harris. Ew. The goddess that was Lydia Martin agreed to help him during one of his free blocks if he agreed to buy her lunch everyday she helped. He didn’t know why she needed him to buy her anything since she very obviously had enough money to keep a small nation of people from starving for a year, but whatever.

It was one of the days when Lydia dragged him to some hipster café where art that made no sense to him was hung on walls and everyone looked casually attractive. Lydia rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, which was only about ten percent actual coffee and ninety percent flavorings and fancy cream.

“Shut up, Stiles. You’re more attractive than half the people in here. Well, you would be if you wore clothes that actually fit you and you did something about that mess you call hair.” She said nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just flip his entire world on its head.

“You…think I’m attractive?” He asked, looking around like he was expecting Ashton Kutcher to pop out. She sighed.

“Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. You know I don’t date guys like you, Stiles. We went over this.”

“Right. Unhealthy obsession creates an unhealthy relationship. Infatuation isn’t love. Yadda yadda.” He said, taking a drink of his…whatever it was. Frozen chai with extra vanilla? Lydia handed it to him and he was just happy he hadn’t had to ask what half the stuff on the menu was.

“So you do listen.” She replied. Stiles couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. The bell on the door handle jingled and Stiles glanced over, instantly looking away once he recognized the broody figure.

“Hey, don’t look now but Derek Hale just walked in.” Weirdly enough, she didn’t spin around and very obviously point him out. Maybe he had been spending too much time with Scott.

“The guy who came from that lawyer family?” She asked, looking only as the man in question walked by.

“Oh yeah, I forgot that they were lawyers. His mom solved the Wolfsbane case, right?” Lydia shivered.

Wolfsbane was a drug that blew up in the 90’s, although it had always existed. No one knew how it was getting from Canada, really the only place it could grow, to the America’s. The border had tightened its restrictions and yet even more of the drug made it through. It was cheap, effective, and used as a party drug basically everywhere. Tracing it back was nearly impossible since it was incredibly difficult to find in blood tests and the people taking it died within a couple hours of overdosing, which didn’t take much. Eventually they found the man responsible, Gerard Argent, but no one would take the case. Too dangerous, too many people were under his control, not enough evidence, people who went against him randomly disappeared.

Talia Hale stepped up and won the case, getting Gerard life in prison. A couple weeks after, there was an ‘accidental’ fire at the Hale house that killed almost everyone inside except for three people. Two were left, Stiles supposed, since apparently he found a body of one. That was another big reason no one looked into the fire, even while in prison people were still scared of Gerard and his influence, especially once news of his escape got out. Then once he died (suspiciously) the case was too old for anyone to care.

“Yeah. Honestly, though, we should get going on alkalines if you want to be anywhere close passing on your midterm.” She replied, flipping her beautiful strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. Stiles sighed, oh what he would do for love.

***

_ Dear Stiles, _

_ You seem to mention your father quite a lot, but never your mother. I wonder if she left or something even more tragic. Pardon my prodding but I’ve been curious about it for a while. Perhaps I could be persuaded to relieve some of my own sad secrets if you were willing to do the same. _

_ And as for hobbies before my imprisonment, I used to be good at card tricks, believe it or not. I could also solve a rubik’s cube blindfolded. Mostly any inane trick that could even mildly impress someone, I was interested in. Eating fire, swallowing swords, I could’ve run off to the circus if I was ever so inclined. Maybe I should have, before I realized the entire world was a circus, using the media to show off the newest freaks. Why else would there be such coverage of serial killers, school shooters, bombers? We all love a good show, as long as we’re not the ones starring in it. Although, obviously there are some that dream of being that sort of thing, luckily I’m not that brand of psycho. I feel like I’ve gotten a bit off track, my apologies, but I’m wondering your thoughts. _

_ I was a lawyer before, along with most of my family. We were very good at what we did, had our own firm in a big city. I can’t say I always fought for the good guys, nor can I say I let the good guys win, but I was hardly the smarmiest around. My sister was the big name, anyway, and she won every case she was put on. I liked to be working my magic behind the scenes, if you will. _

_ They won’t let me put in a lot about myself, unfortunately, they don’t want attachments forming. Part of me wishes you knew my name, if just to sedate your curiosity, but apparently that’s too much information. It’s funny, the kinds of things they take away from you here. _

_ Thanks for the movies, by the way, they were a hale of a time. _

_ -Peter H. _

***

“hale of a time”. It was so deliberate that Stiles was almost shocked that the censors didn’t catch it. Peter H. was Peter Hale, how the hell (hale?) could he have missed it? He knew that Talia had a brother that survived the fire, but he didn’t look much further than that. Maybe he should’ve. Would he have realized his penpals identity sooner? Maybe, maybe not-- not that it mattered now.

He could be lying, the treacherous voice in the back of his head whispered to him. It sounded an awful lot like Scott.

Stiles couldn’t find a reason to care though, he had research to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM! I'm back! Got my files switched over to my new (not fucked) computer and this wonderful fic along with it. I can't tell if this chapter is short or average compared to my other ones, but either way, here it is. I still got plans for this thing (and apprently I already wrote the climax, don't remember that but okay) so keep checking it and being awesome :}  
> Hit me up [here](http://www.sterekvssteter.tumblr.com/)


	6. And We'll All Float on Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some knew info on Peter Hale

Peter Hale was...hot. Also a murderer, but Stiles guessed those things didn’t need to be mutually exclusive. Not that he was like those people who went crazy over serial killers or whatever, but he can appreciate attractiveness even if the person isn’t completely stable. And he didn’t even know for sure how stable Peter was. Yeah, he killed people, but according to the psych eval done before his trial (that he totally didn’t steal from his father’s computer) his brain was squeaky clean of bugs. He seemed to be working strictly off of revenge for his family, which Stiles could understand.

He knew if his mother had been murdered...well he didn’t actually know what he would do. It was kind of scary, not knowing how far he’d go for family. Would he kill the people responsible? Maybe. He thought that his father might first, honestly. The sheriff wasn’t an aggressive man, but Stiles knew that a strong protective streak ran in his family, and if there was even a slight chance of someone else getting hurt by the same people (especially after Gerard’s prison break that made people question the actual secureness of it), his father would do whatever he had to.

As for vengefulness, well, just ask Scott what Stiles did to that weirdo Matt Daehler after he tried to threaten Scott in 3rd grade. That kid couldn’t get out of town fast enough.

A few days after getting the letter, Stiles sat in his room with all the information he had on Peter Hale spread out over his desk in front of him. He’d been thinking about what to write back since first reading it and he still wasn’t sure. Should he tell Peter that he found out about him? Would the censors block it? Maybe they’d just shred the letter, or stop letting him talk to Peter, which was impossible at this point because now Stiles was really interested. He sighed and took out a notebook and began to organize his information.

 

Name: Peter Raoul Hale

Born: September 24th, 1984 (age 31)

Family: Derek Hale (nephew, 22, alive), Laura Hale (niece, 28, deceased {2016}), Talia Hale (sister, 36 when deceased {2010}), Cora Hale (niece, 17, alive?), etc. [distant family not included--see family tree]

Incarcerated: 2011 for 3 accounts of murder in the first degree and 1 count of attempted murder (Timothy Michael, Francis Rowe, Shelley Casey, and Kate Argent, respectively)

Sentence: Life in prison, no parole

 

Stiles looked it over and decided he didn’t know as much as he thought he did. Peter plead self-defense (as he had mentioned in the beginning), but it was easily blown over by evidence. One person seemed to really sway the tide between the sentences, and Stiles wondered why anyone would take her word for something.

Kate Argent, Gerards daughter, could never be caught on anything relating to wolfsbane, but it was well known that she was a part of the industry. Playing pleading, innocent victim seemed to come easy, at least in the case of her statement and witness testimony. Stiles read it over for, what must have been, the hundredth time.

 

Offense lawyer (O): Ms. Argent, is it true that you were in the abandoned warehouse on the 22nd of March?

Kate G. Argent (K): Yes.

O: And at what times where you there?

K: Uhm… (pause) must have been around 7:30 to 11

O: PM or AM?

K: PM

O: What were you doing there so late?

K: Doing business.

O: With whom?

K: Timothy Michael, Shelley Casey, and Francis Rowe.

O: Is it true that they have ties to Gerard’s drug cartel?

Defensive lawyer (D): Objection, your honor, relevance?

Judge (J): Mr. Haher, does this have anything to do with the murders?

O: Yes your honor, it shows motive. See, Mr. Hale’s family tragically died in a fire a few months back by Gerard Argent, as I’m sure you and the jury know, and he was clearly seeking revenge against those who he believed had a part in it. And although he believed he had evidence against these men, of which we have yet to see, he had not gone to any sort of law personnel. He could’ve seeked these men out by following Kate Argent to the warehouse, which is how she accounts it happening.

D: Your honor, if I may comment?

J: Say what you need.

D: Peter Hale’s immediate statement after the fact lines up almost perfectly to this story, yet it is leaving out an important piece. Kate Argent, filled with the need for revenge herself, threatened Mr. Hale with the death of his remaining family if he didn’t follow her to this warehouse, where she was planning on attacking, and eventually murdering, him.

J: Where is the evidence for that claim?

D: We have surveillance video with a timestamp that shows Ms. Argent speaking to Mr. Hale around 7:13 PM the same day of the murders. *long pause* As you can see, he looks more scared than vengeful. As she turns away you can see the smile on her face, not an expression that lines up with what Mr. Hale was obviously feeling at that time.

O: We cannot prove what words were spoken in this clip, your honor. Maybe Ms. Argent had said some non-polite things, but if anything, it would’ve made him more angry and willing to do damage to her. This is not a case about who is the nicer person, but why Peter Hale decided to murder three people and nearly Kate Argent herself. The answer is clear...

 

Stiles closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, trying to process at the information at once. He didn’t know the truth, he might not ever know, but for some reason he believed Peter. It could’ve been because he had spoken to him long enough where he was maybe starting to trust him. Stiles understood why Peter wouldn’t want to talk about this to him, even if he could without the censors butting in. He felt weird about having all this information about him, since Peter himself had nearly nothing on Stiles. He was kind of putting himself out there, honestly, and Stiles felt like he needed to give something back. Peter did ask for it.

 

***

 

_ Dear Peter, _

_ My mom’s name was Claudia and she died when I was about 8 or 9. I still remember when she used to read me bedtime stories. Sometimes she would read the classic ones, like Dr. Seuss or Little Red Riding Hood. When I grew up a little she read me the gory, real stories of Hansel and Gretel and tales like that. She could cook really good too, she even taught me some stuff before she died. _

_ My hobbies are mostly just lacrosse and school. I love researching, maybe I’ll become a detective or something. I’m currently teaching myself French, did you know that ‘argent’ means silver? I taught myself Latin for a couple years until I heard that Lydia had taught herself archaic latin and I decided to give up. Isn’t there a saying for that, like ‘if you can’t beat them, give up’ or something close to that, probably. Sometimes I help out at the station with my dad, just filing and stuff. It can get pretty boring but some of it’s cool to read about. I could probably learn about any crime that has happened in Beacon Hills if I wanted too. Maybe some that didn’t, if they happened close enough. _

_ It’s weird to think that you were a lawyer but you’re now in prison. Have you met anyone in there that you helped put away? Do the other prisoners hate you for it? I’ve only ever seen the inside of a jail, and something tells me it’s nothing like a prison. _

_ I’m glad you liked the movies, if you ever get bored again, let me know. _

_ -Stiles S. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to update once a week! I'm not crazy about this chapter at all but I wanted another chapter up and the plot has to continue so...here you go, hope you can stand it. Finals this week and next so stess is currently my only motivator. Some people have asked if the Hales are werewolfs, I don't actually have a definite answer yet and I'm free to suggestion. I have an idea for the rest of the plot either way so it's just a matter of figuring it out. As usual, thanks for reading and taking the time to give kudos and comment, it means a ton! Also, I know almost nothing about how court works, so take everything here as creative license.  
> HMU [here](http://www.sterekvssteter.tumblr.com/)


	7. Don't Forget About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa Stilinski gives Stiles some more personal info about Peter, but not enough for Stiles to be satisfied.

Stiles didn’t tell Scott. It was an obvious decision but it was such a change in routine that it threw him off. Scott had gotten a girlfriend, Allison, who had just moved back to Beacon Hills from some southern state. Apparently her family had lived there not too long ago but moved away for a change of pace and now they’re back. Her eyes sparkled like the stars and her hair was like brown cascading waters, according to Scott, anyway.

Stiles thought she was pretty. Nothing like the goddess herself who had snatched up Allison almost instantly to shmooze with the popular kids, but hotter than he thought Scott would get. He should’ve known that girls would fall all over his cute puppy-dog eyes and his kind heart. He couldn’t have ever guessed that Scott would basically leave him for her. In a bestfriend-y way.

He didn’t blame Allison, although he wished he could since that would make it a hell of alot easier to hate her, but it wasn’t her fault that Scott fell head-over-heels for her and left his best friend behind without even realizing it. And he knew Scott would give a big speech about how dangerous he was being by talking to Peter, even though he was pretty sure that Allison’s dad had access to tons of guns and was ridiculously protective of his daughter so if anyone was in danger it was Scott. But once he turned his big brown puppy dog eyes on, no one could stop him. His death sentence, then.

***

“Hey dad, my main man, my daddio, my gracious fa-”

“What do you want, Stiles?” The sheriff looked tired, like he had been up for days, and with the murder Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. He rocked back on his feet innocently. John took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“I was just wondering about a case from a few years ago.” Stiles replied, sliding into the seat next to his father’s. “The Hale’s.” John looked suspicious and slightly confused, staring silently at his son for a few moments.

“Which case; they’ve had their share of bad luck.”

“After the fire, when Peter Hale was convicted of murder.” Stiles knew the next question was coming, but he was hoping to put it off for a little while longer.

“Now why would you need to know that?” The sheriff sat back in his chair with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the recent murder, does it?” Stiles understood how his father could have made that assumption. Stiles finds a dead body, snoops around the station, and now he’s asking about the dead girl’s uncle who also happens to be a murderer. If only it were that simple.

“Uhh...not exactly.” Stiles began to explain, but stopped when his father’s words penetrated (ew) his brain, “Wait. You said murder. So you do think it’s a murder?” The Sheriff sighed.

“Stiles,”

“Ho ho no sir, you just said murder, like you have some kind of feeling that it was more than an animal attack. Who are your suspects? Oh man I told you! Another Hale suspiciously dying in Beacon Hills? That can’t be a coincidence!” Stiles gestured wildly.

“Son. We don’t know if it was a murder or not. That cut seemed surgical to us, but claws could do that if they had enough force behind it. It’s all just theory right now, there aren’t any suspects.”

“What about Derek Hale?” Stiles asked. The sheriff narrowed his eyes.

“What do you know about Derek Hale?” Stiles remembered that day in the woods and instantly started backtracking.

“Nothing! Just...Parrish said that you brought him in for questioning after it happened.” Stiles said totally convincingly. John didn’t seem too trusting.

“Parrish told you?” He questioned.

“Yup. Good ol’ Deputy Parrish. What a guy.” Stiles smiled and his dad seemed to decide to leave it alone with a sigh.

“Derek Hale was being told that his sister had just died, he had an alibi.” John concluded. Stiles still had more questions about it but he decided to put it off for a later time. “What does this have to do with Peter Hale, which to my knowledge is still locked up a hundred miles from here?” Stiles rethought his approach and tried again.

“So I kinda found out who my penpal is.” Okay so he hadn’t meant to say that, but it works. With the amount of sighing the sheriff did around Stiles, he could single handedly keep the amazon forest alive with his carbon dioxide output, Stiles thought.

“Of course Stiles is the one to get paired with the one serial killer in the prison.” He mumbled and looked up to the ceiling as if asking for help. “How do you know it’s Peter Hale, I thought they only let you guys give out first names.”

“Well they do, but Peter found a way around it, kinda.” The sheriff raised an eyebrow, “Listen, I’m not planning on breaking the guy out or anything, he’s still a killer, I just wanted some background on him.”

“Don’t you think it’s rude to go snooping into other people’s business?” He asked.

“He basically asked me to, dad. And it’s all on public record anyway.” At least most of what he looked at was, but he wasn’t gonna mention it. There was a few moments of silence before the sheriff began talking.

“The case was about 6 years ago. The Argent girl, Kate I think her name was, gave a statement that said Peter Hale had killed her three uh...friends. They were a part of the drug ring that had been functioning out of Beacon Hills for years and that had committed the Hale fire. Apparently he had stalked her back to this...warehouse I guess you could call it, and killed them. She basically plead the fifth when we asked what they were doing there. Hale said that he was lured there with the plan of killing him and he acted in self-defense. Neither side had a lot of evidence, but we had three bodies and nobody was denying that it was because of him that they were dead, so he was convicted.” The sheriff looked lost in a memory and Stiles didn’t want to disturb it, but he had known all this information before.

“What do you think about it?” Stiles asked, and it seemed like it snapped his dad out of whatever he was thinking about.

“Uh...I knew Peter Hale before the trial, hell before the fire. The Hale’s were a well-known family here and everyone knew everything about them. They were private bunch, though. Nobody got into their business. Figures of the community, really. They’d help out at all the events and school functions, the kids got good grades and played sports, they were liked. Peter Hale though, he was a different story. Not a bad kid, well at the time I guess I was barely not a kid, but anyway, he used to flirt with all the old ladies at the tea shop that used to be down central, would wander around the high school waiting for Derek to get out, he was a bit strange, not as much of a front man as his sister Talia. He went into the family trade, was good at it too if I remember correctly. You never heard a lot about him though, seemed to be more of a background kind of guy.”

Stiles recalled a letter he had gotten from Peter not too long ago, the same one that ticked him off to his full name. “My sister was the big name...I liked to be working my magic behind the scenes, if you will.”

For some unknown reason, Stiles shivered.

***

_Dear Stiles,_

_I’m sorry to hear about your mother, believe me when I say that I can empathize with loss. You were far too young, although who can really say when the time is right for someone we love to die? Fairy tales were seen as jokes in my family, how the creatures and magic were presented was absurd. Where did the idea that wolves had strong enough breath to go around blowing houses down start? Completely strange. I can cook quite well, by the way, not that I’ve been able to stretch out those particular skills in a while._

_Sheriff for a father must be interesting, sneaking out must be impossible. Even if there were people waiting for you somewhere outside. You are also somehow both more and less protected, but I doubt people in such a quiet town are coming from all over to take a shot at your father. I suppose you’re lucky in some ways, being a lawyer is much more dangerous. I’m sure there are jokes about us being smarmy asshats and I can’t say that it’s a lie. But I’d like to think that I’m one of the few who isn’t an asshat. Maybe because I’m actually fluent in quite a few languages, and well educated in manors. I could just be lucky, though._

_I haven’t actually met anyone I’ve put into prison here. As I mentioned before, I didn’t always take the side of the good guys, but that’s just part of the job. ‘Smarmy’ might just be an accurate descriptor for me after all._

_I always appreciate your gifts, Stiles._

_As always,_

_Peter_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! Sorry for such a late update, midterms and some finals happened and then funerals and Valentine's day happened and I've been horribly busy, but I hope you enjoy this chapter! Lots of Papa Stilinski talking in this one, hope you don't mind :$ next chapter should feature Stiles sneaking out to see Peter, or maybe the one after next. We'll see...  
> If you guys want the Hale's to be werewolves, I can still make that happen, just let me know since I'm not really bothered either way, thanks! :)  
> HMU [here](http://www.sterekvssteter.tumblr.com)  
> (mild Twenty One Pilots reference)


	8. Ill Be Seeing You in Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out about Allison's family and he goes to see Peter

There was so much going on in the letter that Stiles had to read it two more times before he could grasp it all. “Even if there were people waiting for you…” What the hell is that supposed to mean. He couldn’t be implying...no. That’s crazy. Peter wouldn’t be expecting Stiles to go visit him in prison, right? What would be the point? But the idea tugged at his interest in a maybe not-so-good way. He could practically feel his mischievousness jumping at the chance. Something about Peter Hale intrigued him too much to be safe. Murderer but for a good cause, piercing blue eyes, mysterious aura, and a smile that made you think that he knew more about you then even yourself do. It was dangerous, especially after meeting Derek and seeing that muscles apparently ran in the family. It wasn’t a good idea.

Speaking of Derek, Stiles wondered if he was going to visit his uncle. He must have to, right? Who else is going to let him know about Laura’s death? And man, wasn’t it weird that the Hale’s seemed to be surrounded by bad luck. He felt bad for Derek, having everyone in his family dead, in prison, or missing. Stiles could kind of understand why he seemed so pissed off all the time.

He looked at the letter again, weighing his options and the consequences of them. He still hadn’t made a decision by the time the sound of keys jingling alerted him of his father’s arrival, so he quickly put the letter away before making his way downstairs.

“Hey dad, how was work?” He asked. The sheriff was unlacing his boots, his coat and belt already hung up beside him. He looked up at his son.

“Fine,” He replied with a grunt as he stood, “nothing too special.” Stiles rocked on his heels for a moment, but the sheriff stayed silent, waiting for what he knew was coming.

“So...no news on the murder?” The sheriff sighed and started walking towards the kitchen where the smell of lasagna wafted seductively. “Hey! It was just a question. I’m a concerned citizen.”

“I thought everyone in town was a citizen except you, remember?”

“That was public, dad. Everyone is public except me. I’m still a member of the town, who is concerned about my own well being.”

“Well stop worrying about your well being, that’s my job.” He replied, grabbing a heaping bowl of cheesy goodness and parking himself in a seat. They sat in silence for a few seconds, the sheriff pretending to ignore Stiles as he stared at his father urgingly. Eventually John put down his fork with a sigh. “Not that it’s any of your business,”

“Nope, not at all. Not even a little bit, but…”

“We found more dead animals ripped apart in the woods surrounding the area that we found the girl’s body. Maybe, and this is a big maybe, they’re somehow related. But if that’s true then it’s most likely not a murder case, just a mountain lion or something.”

“What do we do then?” Stiles asked, although for some reason he doubted it was a mountain lion. Or maybe he was just aching for something interesting to finally happen, was that horrible? Probably.

“We call up somebody who knows how to deal with large predators.”

“And who the hell would that be?” Stiles looked from side to side as if some professional was going to materialize in the kitchen.

“Well when we asked Dr. Deaton about it, he referred us to Chris Argent. He’s a gun supplier and used to hunt large prey, from what I understand. He has a daughter that’s about your age, Allison?” The sheriff said it so offhand, like it didn’t even matter. He had no idea that Stiles suddenly had so much more to think about. “Son? Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, just tired. I think I’m gonna go do some homework and pass out. See you tomorrow?” He took off as casually as he could upstairs, leaving his father’s questioning look behind.

***

“How could I not have known that the Allison you’ve been screwing is the granddaughter of a psychopath?!” Stiles exclaimed early the next day. Scott looked mildly confused, putting his helmet on the seat of his bike.

“Allison is nothing like Gerard, Stiles. Plus, that was forever ago, man. She said she doesn’t even remember him.” Scott replied, seeming like he figured that was the end of it. He was wrong.

“But I’m sure she remembers her crazy aunt! The one who tried to get more Hale's killed!” Stiles tried to reason as they approached the school. Scott shook his head.

“They used to be really close but after the trial happened her dad wouldn’t let them see each other anymore. Why do you care?” Scott stopped abruptly, facing Stiles. He was completely caught off guard, opening and closing his mouth a few times trying to find something to say.

“I just care about you, dude. What if she decides to become a killer too and tries to get you hit? I can’t let that happen.” He said. Scott rolled his eyes and continued walking.

“She’s nothing like them, Stiles. She’s,” Scott sighed wistfully, “perfect.” a goofy grin sliding on his face. Stiles refrained from shaking him.

“Yeah, we’ll see how perfect she is when her dad shoots you in the ass.” Stiles mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you think Harris is gonna give us a pop quiz?” Stiles quickly changed the topic, but he tuned out Scott’s long reply and was instead distracted by his plans. He had to go see Peter, and there was no better time than the present, or at least immediately after school.

His dad would be working until late again and wouldn’t even miss him. Sliding into his seat and nodding along to whatever Scott was saying, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing a big part of the puzzle.

***

The rest of the day was uneventful. Harris did give them a pop quiz second block, Jackson made fun of him during lunch while everyone else (including Scott) ignored him, and Scott blew him off for his girlfriend. They had to move to the ‘popular’ table because Allison had been scooped up by Lydia pretty quick and Scott just had to sit next to her. And so came Stiles. Not that it mattered since his best friend pretended he didn’t exist.

When the final bell rang, Stiles couldn’t help from racing out the doors like the devil was on his tail. He couldn’t think of a good reason why he was so interested by Peter. Maybe it was the whole ‘bad boy’ thing about him, if murder could even be seen as rebellious. Or maybe it was because he felt like he could trust him, for literally no good reason. There were actually negative reasons he should trust Peter Hale, but for some reason he blew them all over by the fact that Peter seemed to trust him. Peter had let him know his real name with the intent of Stiles finding out his dirty past without any way of reciprocating. He told Stiles about his life pre-fire and his hobbies. It was surreal. Stiles had told him about his mother for godsake. It might’ve been the stupidest thing he could do, but he wanted to believe Peter was innocent, or at least innocent enough to not deserve rotting in prison.

He got there about an hour later, already half-talking himself out of it. He went through the front door and into the office where a middle aged lady sat, writing something down. She had short black hair tied back into a bun and small, rectangle glasses perched on her nose. She also didn’t look up when Stiles walked in, which caused him to shift from foot to foot awkwardly before clearing his throat.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a baritone, still not raising her eyes from the paper in front of her.

“Uh...yeah. I was wondering if I could schedule a visit for an inmate?” Stiles said uncertainly. Even being the son of a police officer, he had no idea how to proceed. Weirdly enough, he never had the inclination to visit a prison.

“Who?” She asked. Stiles stood silent for a few moments, trying to figure out who she was asking about.

“uh… Peter Hale.” He took a shot in the dark. The woman, Brenda, apparently from what he could see of her name tag, looked up.

“Peter Hale? He hasn’t ever had a visitor before. How are you affiliated?” She asked, the space between her eyebrows crinkling unattractively.

“I’m a friend, his niece recently died and I figured I would come check up on him since I’m in town.” He lied as smoothly as he could. It wasn’t really a lie persay, just not exactly accurate. Brenda looked at him suspiciously for a few more moments before gesturing to a seat across the room.

“Visiting hours start in fifteen,” he already knew that, “sit there until someone comes and gets you. What is your name?” She asked. Stiles briefly thought of lying but decided not to.

“Stiles Stilinski.” Her eyebrows raised but she said nothing and instead typed something into the computer as he went and sat down.

He twiddled his thumbs and tapped his foot impatiently. After about the fifth time he got Brenda’s glare, he decided to distract himself with angry birds until they got him. He couldn’t help being nervous. He had no idea what he was going to say to Peter, nevermind how he was going to explain why he was there in the first place. Peter asked, Stiles reminded himself, in the wierdest way he could. Not that he really had a choice, normally the prison wouldn’t care if someone wanted their penpal to come visit them, but minors? Not a good idea. He sat for what felt like years before an officer came in to escort him into the visiting room. He was patted down right before entering, but nothing was taken away.

Inside there was metal tables with handcuffs attached to them, about half being filled with the wrists of inmates clothed with orange jumpsuits. On the other side of the table was a second chair for the visitor to sit at and talk. He scanned the chattering room, and noticed a familiar face smirking at him. His heart seemed to stop and he hoped it didn’t show on his face. The cop lead him over and sat him down before checking the cuffs to make sure they were secure.

“No gifts, no letters, no phone calls, and please keep the PDA down to a minimum. There are guards stationed at every doorway and this room is being monitored 24/7.” He stalked off without another word and Stiles was forced to look into the eyes of Peter Hale.

“Stiles, so nice to finally get to meet you.” He said, eyes flashing with something unidentified. Stiles swallowed and nodded, trying to remember that this was the same guy he talked to about his mother.

“Hey Peter, prison treating you well?” He replied, trying to sound unaffected but for some reason Peter seemed to be able to look through his bullshit.

“Eh, could be worse I suppose.” He shrugged, but it was in contrast with how he was staring at Stiles. Almost hungry. Stiles shivered.

“That’s uh, good.”

“There’s no need to be scared, Stiles.” Peter comforted, leaning back in his chair as far as he could with his arms being restricted. Stiles glared.

“I’m not.” He said defiantly. Peter chuckled.

“I get it, writing things down to a faceless being is different from seeing them in the flesh. But I promise I’m just as innocent and harmless as I have been.”

“Why did you want to see me?” Stiles ignored most of what was said, but it didn’t seem to phase Peter. He just continued to smirk, like he found Stiles amusing.

“I thought it would be nice to chat, face to face. I am intrigued by you.” He said, as if it wasn’t the weirdest thing to say, but Stiles had to admit he was interested too. You can’t talk to someone for months without becoming kind of curious. Especially not when it’s Stiles you’re talking about.

“That’s nice.” He said. Peter only seemed to grow more amused at this and shook his head.

“Why do I have a feeling that daddy doesn’t know you’re here? Does he know anything about me?” Peter teased. Stiles felt weird about the question, like the answer mattered more than Peter was letting on. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“He actually told me a lot about you.” He said, not completely answering him, which Peter seemed to take as one anyway. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really? And what did he have to say? All good things, I hope.”

“He just told me about your family before the fire, not more than you told me, really.” Stiles was stuck between suspicion and the urge to trust Peter. He knew there had to be more to this visit, or else why would he be there? Peter seemed to flinch microscopically at the mention of the fire, but his face never wavered. “But I doubt you wanted to talk about the good ol’ days with me.”

“Hmm...not quite, no. I did want to get you know you better though, Stiles. But you seem to not trust me.” Peter looked actually confused, like he couldn’t fathom why that could be.

“Maybe because you’re a psychopath murderer? Just an idea.” Stiles commented sarcastically. Peter chuckled, low and deep in his chest and Stiles wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. He’d never met anyone so infuriating in his life and he wondered if that’s what people thought about him.

“You and I both know that’s not true, but that provides a nice segway into what I actually wanted to discuss with you.” Peter said, leaning forward in his seat until their faces were only inches apart. Stiles figured that Peter expected him to move away, but he didn’t, he just let their air mingle and never broke eye contact, no matter how much he wanted to flick them down to his lips. Wow, okay. That was weird. Backtrack his thoughts and abort. Peter seemed to notice the distress and smiled wider, showing off his perfect smile that made Stiles want to punch him.

“And that is…?” Stiles replied eventually. Peter stayed quiet for a few more moments.

“I want you to prove my innocence, Stiles.”

And like a car wreck, he couldn’t look away as Peter slowly leaned forward and brushed their mouths together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to experiment with slightly longer chapters because I tend to write short ones :x I just really wanted this chapter to have their first meeting tbh but I'm gonna try to really get into plot soon, so hopefully that'll be fun. I'm also going to try to do the whole weekend updates thing but I'm super busy with school all the time and I have a million fics going, even if I'm not uploading them, so I'm hoping I can stick to it! The title is from the song 'Die Die Die My Darling' by the Misfits, and if you're in a punk mood then I recommend it :?  
> Hmu [here](http://www.sterekvssteter.tumblr.com/)  
> P.S. Love all the amazing comments!! You guys are so incredible and keep me writing so thank you!


	9. I'm In Love With Judas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finishes his talk with Peter, tells Scott what he's thinking, and makes generally bad decisions.

It wasn’t his first kiss. Technically Heather was his first kiss back when he was 14 and truth or dare wasn’t more than “I dare you to kiss them” and “who’s your crush?”. That kiss had been alright. It was close mouthed and lasted about 3 seconds, just long enough for it to be called his ‘first kiss’. This kiss, though, was very different.

Stiles felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and his heart was working double time. It was still brief, but longer than the one with Heather, and Stiles kinda felt like the rest of the room dropped out from around him. It was...strange.

Peter pulled away when the same guard from before made a warning noise in their direction, but Stiles barely noticed.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, angrily. Peter looked slightly taken off-guard, the first time he had looked even partially phased by Stiles so far, but he recovered quickly.

“I believe the kids are calling that a kiss nowadays, although I could be wrong since I haven’t been around to hear the new slang lately.” He snarked. Stiles felt the rest of the elation leave him and be replaced by a rising anger.

“You’re trying to manipulate me into helping you escape, you asshole.” Stiles said without a question in his voice. Luckily the noise of the other’s talking covered his enough not to raise suspicion, but they might not be so lucky next time and Stiles reminded himself to keep quieter.

Peter once again looked almost shocked at Stiles’s statement, but it dissolved into a smile, like he was pleasantly surprised. Stiles stood up, ready to leave and forget any of this had ever happened (yeah right, good luck, he thought). Peter straightened up and looked him in the eyes, sincere as he could manage, Stiles supposed.

“You are special, aren’t you. So much more than I had even guessed.” He said. Stiles shivered.

“The kiss was an overkill.” Stiles replied, but it didn’t seem to bother Peter. If anything, he looked more pleased.

“Perhaps, but you’ll be back, won’t you Stiles?”

Stiles didn’t answer but instead walked out the door.

***

“Wait, so you kissed him?”

“No, Scott. He kissed me!”

“But there was kissing?”

Stiles sighed and rubbed his eyes. He knew telling Scott about what happened was a big risk, but he felt like he needed to. They were still best friends, weren’t they? It’s not like Scott had been keeping any sensitive information about Allison away from him, whether he wanted it or not (he didn’t). And yeah, he was probably only telling Scott everything because Peter mentioned him keeping him from his dad, but it didn’t matter now.

It wasn’t Scott’s fault that they weren’t as close anymore, it was just that Stiles missed having someone around whenever he wanted them and once Scott got Allison…he got a little jealous. Jealous of both of them, really. Jealous of Allison, who got to hang out with Scott all the time just like Stiles had been able to before (well, not exactly like that, definitely a whole lot less sex). And jealous of Scott, who found someone else to spend his time with who actually wanted to be around him. He was grown up enough to acknowledge that, even if it sucked. But he knew that if he wanted to spend time around Scott, then he had to try, at least a little, even if it was annoying when he got blown off.

“I didn’t _want_ there to be!” He replied, feeling like Scott was accusing him. Scott put his hands up like a surrender and shrugged. A steady silence followed the statement as Stiles waited for Scott to say something else. Maybe call him stupid for finding out who Peter was, or for going to see him, or more likely because he let himself be kissed by him, but there was quiet.

“Are you sure?” Scott said, finally. Stiles gave him a weird look.

“Obviously not, Scott. He’s a killer and also like, double my age.” Scott shrugged again, and Stiles kind of wanted to punch him.

“I don’t know, man. You seem kind of obsessed with him.” Scott said mildly, but Stiles felt like he had just slapped him upside his head with those words.

“How am I ‘obsessed’ with him?” Stiles asked, trying not to sound angry but failing. He knew that getting mad was the last thing Scott was trying to do, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was an insult.

“You do this all the time, dude. You see something dangerous and you have to poke it with a stick to see if it will bite you. Or you have to solve a case and prove someone else is guilty. Or you fall in love with someone unattainable and manipulative. You just obsess over things.” Scott was looking down at his hands and playing with his fingers, obviously nervous to tell him this.

Stiles felt like he had transported back 10 years when Scott hadn’t yet hit puberty and looked small and vulnerable all the time. Back then Stiles had felt like he needed to protect him from bullies, even punching Jackson in the face that one time he threatened Scott on the playground and got his dad called to the school for it. But now Scott had grown up, even if he still looked like a puppy sometimes, and could fight his own battles. Stiles still felt protective of him, they were practically brothers, but he had forgotten how much more he had looked out for him before. Seeing such a vulnerable look on his face reminded him, however, and he felt horrible knowing he had put that look on his face.

“Someone’s studying their SAT words.” Stiles mumbled offhandedly, and was rewarded with a small lopsided smile, he sighed. “I know, man. That’s just how I am. Once I do something, I have to do it 100 percent. And maybe with Peter,” he paused, trying to get all his thoughts lined up, “maybe I am a little obsessed over it. Maybe- no actually I’m definitely being manipulated by him. But I don’t really care. I think he’s innocent, Scott, even if he is a massive douche. I think he deserves to be a little bit, it’s hard to stay a nice person when your entire life is ruined and your family gets burned alive.” Scott looked up with his big brown puppy eyes and Stiles couldn’t help but feel worse.

“So you wanted him to kiss you?” Scott asked, but Stiles understood what he was actually asking-- ‘So are you falling in love with him?’. Stiles thought it over for a second.

“Maybe. It’s hard to tell anymore, there’s just so much shit happening without any clear evidence. I don’t really know what to think.” Scott just nodded, and they sat in silence for a few moments.

“You wanna play Halo?” Scott finally broke the stillness. Stiles smiled and realized how lucky he was to have Scott around.

“Definitely.”

***

‘Obsessed’ was probably accurate, even if Stiles was convinced it was over exaggerated. After seeing Peter in prison the letters didn’t stop, actually they were more frequent. Stiles couldn’t help but be as interested in Peter as he was, apparently, in him. He felt as if they were...friends? Maybe that wasn’t the right word for them, but it was something. There was more flirting now, not that either of them brought up the kiss that had happened, but the experience seemed to have confirmed something for Peter and he was now more of a sarcastic creep than ever. Stiles was kinda into it.

He tried splitting his time equally between school, his dad, Scott, Peter’s case/breakout, and the more recent Hale death (murder?). Lacrosse took up most of his time after school, and he vaguely thought about quitting, but he figured he didn’t want to set off warning bells for his dad and Scott, he was already treading dangerous waters as is. Even if his dad didn’t know what he was doing or what had happened, he was smart enough to know that Stiles was up to something, but assumed it wasn’t anything too bad yet. It wasn’t like Stiles had gone to the prison to meet this Peter guy or anything yet (heh, right…).

It was over halfway through the school year, though, and there was more work than ever. French IV (which he was actually enrolled in) was kicking his ass and Harris acted like he wanted Stiles to disappear suddenly. He miraculously kept up his grades in Finstock’s class, though the guy wasn’t happy with his continuation on his Sophomore paper about male circumcision. AP Calc II wasn’t too difficult, at least with Lydia now tutoring him in that too, but finding the time to study at all was almost impossible, he was lucky to get 4 hours a night these days. He told Peter about his schedule and got a letter back chastising him for it.

‘You can’t help me if you’re passing out from exhaustion’ he said, making a good enough point. Stiles couldn’t help but feel as if he was actually concerned about his health, even though he knew realistically he probably wasn’t, or not for the same reasons that normal people would be. But he thought that they were maybe growing closer. He knew the man had already been squirming underneath his skin, and he wondered if he was doing to same to Peter. It was mostly just wishful thinking, but sometimes it was all that got him through long nights of studying for Chemistry. He vaguely heard Lydia’s voice in his head telling him the same thing he had heard for years, although in a different situation.

“Obsession leads to an unhealthy relationship”, but he wondered if he was actually obsessed with Peter, at least in the way he was with Lydia, falling at her feet and surrendering to her every whim. No, it wasn’t like that. He was admittedly obsessed with Peter, but not like he was with Lydia. He wasn’t buying flowers and daydreaming about him, and he definitely wasn’t ready to do whatever Peter said just because he said to do it, he had evidence of that. It was weird, but so far Stiles had been able to tune it out, these weird feelings he had for Peter. He was getting closer to Peter, but he couldn’t be falling for him, no matter what Scott thought (could he be? No. Right?).

He wasn’t obsessed, he was dedicated. On the wall was all of the information on the Wolfsbane case, the Hale Fire, and Peter’s trial tacked up. Different colored string decorated the papers in straight lines, connecting information. Most of what he had up could be found out by simple google searches, other things he found on public record, and only a small amount (he swears) was taken from the station’s database. The most important bits of text were highlighted throughout the set up, in a system that only Stiles would be able to understand. Not that he did that on purpose, but it was a plus anyway.

His dad rarely came into his room, but when he did he just glanced at the wall and shook his head without a comment. Stiles wasn’t sure what to take from that, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Also, what did that phrase even mean? Are horse’s mouths a symbol for something? Why horses? And who’s the guy going around gifting horses? Why does he have so many horses?

When was the last time Stiles took his adderall? Friday morning, right. And it was Sunday night and he was bouncing off the walls. He looked at the clock and wondered if it was even worth it to take his meds and decided that he would instead just turn in early (if 1am was early). Putting down the report on the fire he had read over a hundred times, he got up, turned out his light, and fell face-first into his bed, groaning through the pillow. He thought about the report and decided he needed more first-person information. There was a special word for that, but he was too tired to remember it, instead he decided that he would talk to Derek in the morning, since he wasn’t going back to the prison to see Peter anytime soon. He drifted off into an easy sleep.

***

The last time he saw Derek Hale, he was getting yelled at by him. The time before that he was talking with Lydia at the coffee shop and didn’t speak a word to him. The first time was at the station when Derek didn’t even know Stiles was listening to him talk to his father. It shouldn’t have to be said that Stiles wasn’t close enough to Derek to just walk up to him and start talking about the fire that killed his family. He had to be sneaky. Schmooze his way in until Derek was comfortable enough with him that he would answer any question he had. Was it manipulative? Sure. But it was for a good cause in the end, really.

Doing it was something different though. It turned out to be infinitely harder than he imagined, and he never thought it was going to be easy. Derek was closed off, mean, and generally suspicious of people. Especially Stiles, who he had already decided to hate based on literally ONE interaction where Stiles asked about his dead sister and maybe, kinda accused him of doing it. But people make mistakes, okay? Talk about holding a grudge.

Stiles hadn’t just walked up to Derek’s door and started randomly trying to be his friend, oh no, that’d be too obvious - he had a plan. First he was going to find out where Derek went during the week, and then he would start sporadically showing up at those places and having mild interactions with him. It wasn’t technically stalking. It was for a good cause! Anyway, there were twelve more steps to it, which included watching all the Star Wars movies together and finding Derek a date because, dammit, that guy deserved something good in his life, but he was stopped short. Like really short. Like he had barely started following the guy before Derek pulled over and stood waiting for Stiles to follow.

He looked pissed. His arms were crossed on his chest as he leaned against his (gorgeous) car with a glare on his face. And this wasn’t his normal “I hate life and everyone that exists” glare that he normally wore. It was his “I’m a serial killer and I’m two seconds away from grinding your bones into dust and then selling it on the black market as cocaine” look. It was true that a look said a thousand words, or whatever.

Stiles awkwardly got out of his jeep and shuffled over to where Derek stood, fuming.

“So...hey. Again.” He said smoothly.

“Why are you following me?” He asked. Not beating around the bush then.

“I wasn’t _following_ you. You know, it’s kinda arrogant to think that someone’s following you when they’re just happening to go the same way.” Stiles replied. Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles felt his face heat up slightly.

“What were you doing then?” Derek said more than asked.

“Going to the store. I need milk.” Stiles replied, figuring that two could play at the game of ‘shortest sentences’. Derek didn’t seem amused.

“Then why have you been idling across the street from my hotel for the past two hours?” Derek tried. Stiles knew he was fucked.

“I was uh...waiting for someone.”

“Who?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Where are they now?”

Shit. Today was an off day, apparently. Stiles let all the air escape him in a big sigh.

“Fine, I was following you, but I wasn’t stalking!” Stiles felt the need to defend himself, since Derek was still looking at him with a judgemental stare. He stayed silent and Stiles felt the look eating away at his soul. “Okay! Maybe it was kind of stalking! But it wasn’t like I was planning on hurting you or anything.” Derek continued to glare, but he seemed confused for a couple seconds, glancing quickly down at Stiles’s chest and back up to his face like something didn’t make sense. He growled (no, really.) and shook his head angrily.

“Just-- stay away from me.” He said finally, and got back into his sleek car before pulling out and driving away.

Stiles sighed. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but the story must go on I guess. Thanks to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, it means so much to me! I'm trying to stick to the chapter every weekend thing, and this one is almost 3,000 words, which is nothing compared to other people's fics, but is long for me so...hopefully it continues to improve...  
> The plot for this keeps changing, not the stuff already laid out, but the stuff that happens after. We'll see, I have actually no idea how long this is gonna be. Stay tuned?  
> HMU [here](http://www.sterekvssteter.tumblr.com/)


	10. RIP the climax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok. so this is the dealeo. idek if anyone reads these anymore because they are VERY cringy and the writing is subpar at best lol but your comments are all very sweet and gentle :) i havent updated this in like kinda almost 2 years ish so this is the climax that i wrote but never finished, just so i could have an idea of what i wanted to do with it. its short and not very interesting. its what i got so here you go tho. this was written like way before a lot of the ideas i had were a thing so its not really accurate to what my plans were, which i will also post directly after this part just in case you wanted to see the layout or whatever. but sorry for not finishing this when i had the passion to, nowadays idek whats happening with this show or anything and i havent really thought about it. oh well here ya go

As you get older, you tend to forget things. Not in the probably-has-alziemers way, but forgetting things that used to be important to you. Like birthdays. Stiles remembered when his dad used to brush off his own birthday, which was crazy to him. Why would you not care about your birthday? It's the best day of the year for you! But Stiles now understands why, life doesn't stop because however-many-years ago you were born on that day. It's not as important anymore. He just wasn't expecting it to smack him in the face.  
"Su hombre va a volver en unas pocas líneas para darle una sorpresa en su cumpleaños!" the spanish woman cried on screen dramatically. Stiles sat snuggled in his blankets like a cacoon, shoveling ice cream into his mouth. Movies lied, he thought, ice cream doesn't fix anything. As the woman on the tv continued to beg her boyfriend to stay (at least that's what Stiles got out of it) he felt irritated.  
"At least your boyfriend isn't in prison!" he exclaimed into the open apartment. He was talking to a screen, he was going crazy. He sighed and debated changing the channel to something other than spanish soap operas, but the remote was too far away and he couldn't really care.  
It was his birthday and nobody cared. He knew that it was stupid, to be upset over something so trivial, they had lives and responsibilities other than him. But still. He actually felt like an adult for once. Sure he paid bills and worked for a living, but before that day it was almost like it was a game. Sitting on the couch, all alone, eating birthday cake ice cream because the supermarket was all out of the cake he liked and he wasn't so pathetic as to go all the way to the fancy bakery two towns over for a cake he was just going to eat by himself. His dad was hours away, probably sleeping. He just wanted a break for awhile, not to worry about life and school and the fact that the love of his life was a murderer and in prison for life.  
There was a knock on the door.  
He thought about just not getting up and letting the person believe he went out or something, but the knocks kept coming. He huffed and shoved the spoon into the ice cream and put it on the coffee table. If they thought that he was going to leave his blanket cacoon though, they were crazy. He shuffled over to the door and swung it open.  
"What do you wa- Peter?" He gaped at the man in front of him. He wore a soft-looking sweater with thumb holes (thumb holes!) and blue jeans. His face was shaven, except for his goatee which Stiles couldn't decide if he liked or not. His hair was in a sticking up kinda style that Stiles had seen on a million other guys, but Peter made it look so...good.  
"Happy birthday." He said with a smirk, holding out a white box that definitely looked like a cake box. Oh my god, Peter got me a cake, he thought. Oh my god, Peter should be in prison right now, he realized. Stiles quickly looked out into the hall to see if anyone had seen Peter, and then grabbed the man and pulled him into the apartment and slammed the door.  
"What do you think you're doing?! How- What are you- You are-!" Stiles couldn't even pull together a sentence, his head was spinning so bad. He rubbed his eyes to see if he was just imagining things, but nope, Peter Hale still stood before him in all his glory.  
"Stiles, it's okay, just breathe." Peter said calmly. Stiles hadn't realized that he was gasping until then. Peter put the box on the table and pulled Stiles down onto the couch, placing Stiles's hand over his chest. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed, slowly calming himself.  
"Okay." He said after an eternity. Peter chuckled warmly.  
"Not exactly what I was expecting to happen." He joked. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.  
"Peter. What are you doing here?" He said slowly, controlling his breathing carefully.  
"Well I thought that was obvious. Wishing you a happy birthday, clearly." Peter answered. Stiles shook his head.  
"No, I meant what are you doing out of prison?" He clarified, opening his eyes to assure himself that he wasn't just talking to dust and air and Peter was really right in front of him. Peter looked into his eyes, assessing.  
"I broke out." He said simply, staring at Stiles as if to catelog his reaction. He didn't know what to say. Peter broke out of prison. Peter broke out of prison! He lifted his hand and let it come down harshly on Peter's arm.  
"You can't just break out of prison, Peter! It's prison!" He exclaimed, letting his hands flail erratically, "You killed people! What are they going to do when they find you, huh? My dad's the sheriff for god's sake! I can't be seen with a convicted murderer who escaped prison!"  
***  
THIS IS WHAT THE LAYOUT WAS GONNA LOOK LIKE (IT DOESNT REALLY MAKE SENSE BUT WHATEVER) ALSO THIS DOESNT REALLY ADD UP BUT WHATEVER PT 2

ch 10-sees peter, gets more info about fire and derek, plans on meeting fire report guy in prison, sees him, gets told to stay away  
ch. 11- gets accepted into Berkley, 18 birthday (weird present), derek comes and talks to him  
ch.12 - finds out about werewolves, talks to peter, sheriff finds out about it, kinda tentively together?  
ch.13- gets kidnapped, gets all the info he needs about the fire from them (deauc), gets saved by Scott but he gets bitten  
Ch. 14- helps scott control, derek helps with alpha stuff, bites erica and boyd and isaac, starts working together, sees peter  
ch. 15- Derek finds out about them, warns him away, but stiles wont listen, gets kidnapped by Kate/tortured  
ch. 16- derek saves him, but is injured, kate gets away, sheriff thinks they are a couple, whatever  
ch.17- college, trying to find a way to get peter out still, not going well, Kate goes to prison to talk to peter, stiles goes and sees him and gets told, opens door, peter broke out!  
ch. 18- Sex!! Pissed off Stiles! hiding/investigating. Peter wants to kill her but stiles says no, at least until he's off the hook, peter says fine, derek comes over and talks to him  
ch. 19- sheriff questions, finally thinks he has enough evidence to get peter set free, tells his dad and he's pissed but decides to help after meeting peter  
ch. 20- bring it to attention of court, peter gets thrown back into high security (eichen house), find him not guilty and no time bc he felt threatened or w/e and Kate goes missing  
Ch. 21- Derek says that he was almost killed, gives alpha powers over to peter (sex!) Deucallion is looking for them (laura said no, death!) finds peter and he says no, fight  
ch. 22- stiles starts practicing his spark, gets more powerful as he continues, mating, peter gets kidnapped and stiles saves him-kills deucalion  
Ch. 23- Allison helps find Kate, they set up a plan and murder her  
ch. 24- Stiles helps peter calm down, pack gets healthy, rebuild hale house  
Ch. 25- epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not gonna finish this ever lol i said from the beginning that it was a possibility. i really appreciate everyone who was so kind to me during the making of this and all the other fics i did. you guys really helped be discover a passion and be confident enough to continue. i was probably younger than you expected when i wrote these but i think most of us were lol but anyway...peace.


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